


Aaron Burr, Sir

by wallsinpitchforkred



Series: Yuri on Ice!!! Song Fics [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Everyone Is Gay, Gen, Mila Babicheva is Hercules Mulligan, Otabek Altin is Aaron Burr, Otabek is so done, Sala Crispino is Marquis de Lafayette, Viktor Nikiforov is Alexander Hamilton, Viktor meets the gang, Yuri Plisetsky is John Laurens, aaron burr sir, because he obviously can't be 15 in this, but with Yuri on Ice!!! characters, for some reason, he doesn't approve of opinions, not too much but it's there, of which the revolutionary set have many, some hints of otayuri because I can't resist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:08:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23579668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wallsinpitchforkred/pseuds/wallsinpitchforkred
Summary: The cast will change for each song, apart from the main characters, such as Alexander/Viktor, Aaron/Otabek and Eliza/Yuuri, which are the only three which won’t change. I will choose whoever seems most fit for the role and list them at the beginning so as to avoid confusion. Some of the cut songs will be included, such as the ‘Congratulations’ fic I have already written and some others, later on.
Series: Yuri on Ice!!! Song Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1697353
Kudos: 3





	Aaron Burr, Sir

**Author's Note:**

> By order of appearance:
> 
> Alexander Hamilton: Viktor Nikiforov  
> Aaron Burr: Otabek Altin  
> John Laurens: Yuri Plisetsky  
> Marquis de Lafayette: Sala Crispino  
> Hercules Mulligan: Mila Babicheva
> 
> I am also aware that Alexander Hamilton:  
> 1) Did not punch the Bursar.  
> 2) Actually got in a disagreement with President John Witherspoon, not the Bursar.  
> 3) Met Hercules Mulligan a few years before the others.
> 
> I am sticking with the musical version, rather than the historical version because it's easier.

**1776, New York City.**

Biting his lip to stop himself from grinning too much, he bounced up to the short-statured man seated at the bar, a book propped in his lap, which he read from as he drank from his beer. Viktor had been told that was exactly how he’d find the one man he was looking for. 

As he was investing in his book, Viktor couldn’t see his face properly, just his dark, neatly cropped hair and tanned skin. He bent down, waving a hand in front of the man’s eyes to obtain his attention as he spoke. “Pardon me,” he began, attempting to stay polite and not start rambling as usual, “are you Otabek Altin?”

Sighing, the man slid a strip of leather between his pages and made eye contact with Viktor. Most people would be put off by the intensive gaze, but that wasn’t how the Russian immigrant worked. The man realised this and gave a rather non-committal answer, to Viktor’s irritation. “That depends, who’s asking?” Viktor quenched the urge to supply a contemptuous response to that, along the lines of asking how it could depend, it was a closed question, a yes-or-no answer, as separate as day and night, black and white. He either was or he wasn’t.

Instead, he did what he told himself he wouldn’t do. “Oh, well, sure, sir.” It wasn’t a useful sentence if it could even be referred to as one, more a collection of unnecessary words thrown together. It was intended to make Viktor seem as though he knew what he was doing, however, in reality, provided a rather different effect, which Altin easily picked up on, raising an eyebrow. The exact emotion behind it was near impossible to ascertain. Viktor gave up quickly on trying to understand the man as he found his mouth running on, ahead of his thoughts. “I’m, um, Viktor Nikiforov, I’m at your service, sir. I have been looking for you.” He mentally facepalmed, recognising his statement too late as a hint of what could have been amusement flickered across Altin’s face.

Resting his drink on the counter, Otabek replied. “I’m getting nervous.” Viktor couldn’t blame the man in all honesty, it was creepy when he phrased it like that. In his head, he had a counterpoint, at least. He always did, whether it was logical or not was not considered in the equation.

“Sir! I heard your name at Princeton.” A small sound of annoyance slipped from Otabek lips, which Viktor either paid no heed to or just didn’t care. Everyone knew him as the ‘Prodigy of Princeton College’ but no one knew the real him. 

“I was seeking an accelerated course of study.” Altin’s lip quirked upwards a minuscule amount, having predicted the boy to mention something along those lines. He seemed like one of the over-eager types since the beginning of their conversation, if you could call it that, though to a greater extent than most. 

A sheepish grin made its way onto the boy’s face as he added, “when I got sort of...out of sorts with a buddy of yours.” Altin shook his head, more to himself than Viktor. Sucking his teeth, Viktor added another embellishment, having the decency to sound the slightest bit regretful. “I may have punched him, it’s a blur, sir.” Otabek gave the boy a quick once-over, checking to see if the man had punched him back - as many, rightfully so, would - but found that not to be the case. “He handles the financials?” 

The question caught Altin off guard and he took a moment to figure out how to reply to it. Weariness was evident in his voice as he determined who it was. “You punched the bursar.” A mischievous fire ignited in Viktor’s eyes as he nodded.

“Yes! I wanted to do what you did.” Otabek resisted countering the boy’s words by mentioning that he didn’t punch anyone when he was trying to join the school, not thinking it would benefit either of them. “Graduate in two, then join the revolution.” Altin admired the boy’s ambition, but wondered how long he would be able to stick with it before he burned out, as so many before had.

“He looked at me like I was stupid!” Viktor complained, throwing his hands in the air as he clarified, “I’m not stupid.” Otabek could at least admit to himself that the boy was certainly entertaining to watch, having barely stood still since their meeting.

Leaning forwards conspiratorially, he inquired “So how’d you do it? How’d you graduate so fast?” Humming, Altin decided to tell the boy, not thinking it was important to keep under wraps.

“It was my parent’s dying wish before they passed.” Otabek expected the boy, like most people, to offer condolences, that he didn’t particularly care for. However, the opposite occurred, as the boy’s oceanic eyes shone with something unplaceable, between understanding and recognition.

“You’re an orphan.” In Altin’s experiences, people usually didn’t consider that fact a happy one. This boy was different though, but in what way, Otabek planned to unearth. “Of course! I’m an orphan.” That made more sense - he hadn’t met many other orphans in his time. Most orphans were left in orphanages, dirty and without a hope of a future.

“God I wish there was a war.” Otabek decided to take the young boy under his wing and teach him how to survive in the world, as he didn't seem to have no clue. People who went around shouting their opinion - especially ones as controversial as that - were often the ones that got themselves killed. “Then we could prove that we’re worth more than anyone bargained for.” He supposed he could just about see where the boy was coming from. He wanted to prove himself, stand above all that had pushed him down and be proud of what he had become.

He made an offer, a plan forming in his head to help the boy. “Can I buy you a drink?” Viktor looked positively starstruck, an unsaid reminder to Altin how much his words could mean to the boy, and what an impact they could have.

“That would be nice.” He was trying to act unbothered, but it was failing rather miserably, as his sentence came out more high pitched than it probably should have. Altin ordered the same drink he had for Viktor, who had finally sat down, swinging his legs like an excited schoolboy.

“While we’re talking let me offer you some free advice.” He looked ecstatic at the sentiment and Altin smiled slightly, not imagining the actual advice would go down as well. “Talk less.” 

The boy frowned, not seeming to comprehend. “What?” For all his supposed intelligence he didn’t seem quick on the uptake. Altin decided to detail further, adding more.

“Smile more.” He demonstrated, grinning widely, but not unnaturally so. Viktor scoffed a little, a small noise of discomfort escaping his lips. “Don’t let them know what you’re against or what you’re for.” 

Viktor’s jaw dropped, as though he couldn’t ever envision doing that. “You can’t be serious.” Altin backtracked, planning a different route to help the platinum-haired boy understand what he had to do. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a group round one of the tables, shouting rowdily. Altin decided to finish up quickly so he could escape before they noticed him.

“You wanna get ahead?” The boy gave an affirmative nod and Altin offered his final words of wisdom as a short blond - whose gender was difficult to pinpoint - jumped onto a table, a pint of what was labelled as ‘Sam Adams’ in one hand. “Fools who run their mouths off wind up dead.” Viktor gulped and Otabek realised his voice had gotten, unintentionally, ominous.

Before he could say anything else, the blond on the table - who Otabek grudgingly admitted was rather cute - began drunkenly shouting. They gathered the attention of other bar-goers as they called for it. Disdainfully, Otabek noted that he wasn’t even saying anything useful, just repeated a sound.

They then asked what appeared to be a rhetorical question and Otabek realised that the speaker was male. “What time is it?” The main reason Otabek thought this was that he had an unmistakable lump in his pocket, which couldn’t be anything but a pocket watch.

His two friends, a woman with short pink hair and a tan girl with violet eyes, joined his call as he answered his own question. “Showtime!” The other’s voices were female, no doubt about it. They were nothing unusual. Many other men had done something vaguely similar in his time, and nearly all of them had wound up dead.

“Like I said.” He murmured, knowing Viktor would hear, as he was given a perplexed glance. He told himself he would explain later if it came up. The blonde on the table repeated the chant twice more, without his friends backing him up as he launched into some kind of speech about himself, which made Altin lose some of his faith in humanity, wishing more people were sane enough to keep their mouths shut like him. 

“I’m Yuri P. in the place to be.” Otabek didn’t miss the way Viktor’s eyes sparkled, more so than when he had been talking with Otabek, as he watched the tiny blond dance, spilling some of his ‘Sam Adams’ as he did. “Two pints of Sam Adams, but I’m working on three!” There were indeed two empty bottles on the table, though Altin didn’t consider that to be something to brag about. “Those redcoats don’t want it with me! I’ ma fight for my rights with these cops ‘til I’m free!” He groaned at the way the man was just announcing who he was in the middle of a bar, where anyone could be lurking.

The tan girl jumped onto the table as the blond leapt down, landing on all-fours like a cat. “Sí sí, amici miei, mi chiamo Sala C.” She shamelessly winked at Viktor who smirked back at her. Striking a heroic pose she continued, her thick Italian accent coating the words. “The Lancillotto of the revolutionary set.” Altin considered leaving but decided to wait until the commotion had died down before making his move, lest they noticed him. “I came from afar solo per dire ‘Buonasera!’ Tell the king ‘Vattene!’ Who’s the best? Sono io!” Otabek was somewhat less irritated with this girl, as much of her speech was unintelligible when she slipped into Italian, most likely per accident.

The pink-haired woman took her turn next, landing on the table less gracefully than her counterparts, but it didn’t break Viktor’s awestruck expression as he admired the trio. Otabek felt as though he needed to protect the boy from their influence, and was glad he had gotten to the boy first, so he wouldn’t go to waste. The same could not be said for the three revolutionaries.

“Brah brah, I am Mila Babicheva.” Otabek cocked an eyebrow at the unusual sounds, but with her accent, which sounded similar to the blond’s, it worked in her favour. “Up in it, loving it.” Altin couldn’t argue with that, they certainly did seem to be having fun. But what they didn’t seem to be taking into account was the fact that their fun came with a price, and they would pay dearly for it. “Yes, I heard your mother said 'come again?'” The other two, who were now reseated around the table, cheered her on and she grinned at them, communicating without words. “Lock up your daughters and horses.” Altin groaned, not wanting to think of the vulgarities she was referring to. He stood up, having had enough, and pulled Viktor up with him. Unfortunately, Mila elaborated on what he didn’t want to hear, explaining. “It’s hard to have intercourse over four sets of corsets.” 

The tan girl looked surprised, uttering a soft “Wow,” as her friend returned to her seat. Yuri shook his head, insisting, with a clear force behind his words, “No more sex.” Mila snickered a little but nodded as he downed the last of his drink and called out to a young redhead working at the bar. “Pour me another brew, son!” The kid acknowledged him, replenishing their drinks.

“Let’s raise a couple more…” Yuri raised his glass and his friends joined him as they did so, joining him when he exclaimed: “To the revolution!” Otabek had almost escaped when Yuri noticed him, a small smile gracing his lips as he made his way over, calling out to Otabek as he manoeuvred his way through the crowds.

“Well if it ain’t the prodigy of Princeton College!” Altin’s lip curled up in distaste as he turned to face the blond who had grabbed his arm. The boy looked even smaller up closer, managing to be dwarfed by the two women who accompanied him.

“Otabek Altin!” Mila supplied, smirking as she stepped towards him. They hadn’t noticed Viktor, despite his height, as he observed the interaction. He found himself wishing to be in their company over Altin’s, which was somewhat contradictory to his previous statements.

“Give us a verse, drop some knowledge!” Otabek sighed, disliking the exchange and wanting to get out of the conversation as fast as he could, but Yuri had a firm grip on his arm, his alert viridian eyes scanning for a reaction. Altin decided to humour them, not quite in the way they intended.

“Good luck with that, you’re taking a stand.” Otabek’s reputation of neutrality over every matter was infamous among those who knew him, and the two girls booed him as he finished with: “You spit, I’mma sit, we’ll see where we land.”

Yuri folded his arms, intensive eyes still studying Otabek as he added his opinion. “Beks, the revolution’s imminent.” Altin groaned at the nickname, hoping it would have been forgotten, but it seemed that wasn’t the case. “What do you stall for?” Otabek wished people would stop inquiring after his opinions when he had made clear that he didn’t want them to be public knowledge. In all honesty, he preferred to go along with the winning side, which some may call cowardice, but it was how he wanted to live and wasn’t independence all about doing as you wanted and not letting others control you? 

It was only then that Viktor made himself known, unable to stop himself from asking, “If you stand for nothing, Beks, what’ll you fall for?” He clenched his fist, irritated that the boy had not only used the nickname but also that he had torn down his earlier words without a moment’s hesitation and turned them into a prying question against him. He kept his mouth closed, but wasn’t queried further as the trio converged on him.

They took turns asking after his identity, to varying degrees of curiosity, with Yuri just sounding confused and Sara sounding rather suspicious. Viktor was backed into the corner as they wondered aloud: “Ooh, who is this kid, what’s he gonna do?” 

Viktor opened his mouth to respond.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sorry for the cliffhanger, it was too tempting. I’ll try and publish the next instalment soon though. Any feedback is always welcome as long as it isn’t mean. I hope you enjoyed this.


End file.
